How my neighbor escaped the worst date ever through the bathroom window

It’s Just a Number: How Marina—My Neighbor—Pulled Off the Great Escape of the Century Through a Restaurant Window
Marina is fifty-five. It’s a golden age: the kids are grown, the mortgage is paid off, the cat is fed, and her eyes still hold that spark—what young people call "spunk," but what her girlfriends call "dementia and daring."


After much persuasion from her daughter, Marina gave in and signed up for a dating site—as you can see, I did the exact same thing!

She used a photo from last year (taken during a vacation in Turkey, where the lighting was just right) and wrote a philosophical statement in the "About Me" section: "I believe in miracles, but I check the bill."


And then—a match! His name was Eduard. His profile picture showed a man of indeterminate age in a suit, with a subtle hint of a past in track and field. In his messages, Eduard was gallant; he quoted Remarque and promised "an evening filled with high poetry and refined manners."

And just like that—illusions shatter against reality.
The date was set at a swanky restaurant specializing in creative cuisine. Marina put on a new polka-dot dress and shoes with sturdy (yet definitely striking) heels, then applied light makeup, aiming for an air of "elegant mystery."

Eduard was waiting at the entrance. Reality turned out to be harsher than Remarque. For one thing, the suit from his profile picture clearly dated back to a Victory Parade from some year in the nineties. For another, Eduard turned out to be the sort of man who starts a conversation with: "So, woman—amuse me."

But the real nightmare began at the table.
Eduard turned out to be a rare breed of toxic. First, he spent thirty minutes explaining why all modern women had "lost their femininity" (especially those over fifty who dared to wear polka-dot dresses). Then, he methodically criticized the menu, the waiter, and the dollar exchange rate. The evening culminated in this declaration: "You know, Marina, I’m actually looking for a backer for my garage-based cryptocurrency mining startup. Do you happen to have a spare dacha you could put up as collateral?"

Marina looked at her glass of lemonade, then at Eduard—who was enthusiastically picking his teeth with a toothpick—and realized that at fifty-five, she was too old for this circus.

To be honest, I was totally shocked by that date—it’s a story worthy of a book!

Do you agree?

Still, I’d hate for any girl to end up on a date like that!

Although, to be honest...

...if we didn't go on dates like that—or similar ones—we wouldn't have any stories to tell. :)

Agreed?

So, let’s just treat every mishap as another story for the blog! :)